His were blazing, and not from the lamp. “Anna, I ...” He moved to stand, but my fingers tightened around his wrist, and he paused again, half bent over my bed. We stared at each other, myeyes searching his, but he didn’t offer any explanation to what I’d just seen.
I lifted my fingers one by one off his wrist, and he stayed, hovering over me. Instead of dropping my hand, I slid it up his arm, lifting the cuff of his sleeve as I went. The lifted bump I’d felt just the day before came into view. The beginnings of a small circle, no larger than the pad of my thumb, sat upon his otherwise perfect skin. I slid my fingers higher underneath his shirt. More bumps and indentations rose to meet my fingertips.
David closed his eyes, let go of his shirt, and let it fall open again. “You were never supposed to see me like this,” he said, a hard edge to his voice.
I removed my hand from underneath his sleeve and brought a fingertip to a circle sitting just above where his heart lay beneath his ribcage.
The moment my skin touched his, he hissed and sprang away. “Don’t touch them.”
“Do they hurt?”
His eyebrows furrowed, making shadows of his eyes in the lamplight. “What? No.” He shook his head.
“But you don’t want me to touch them?”
His face was hard as he pulled his shirt closed. “Never.”
“But ...” But what? Did I think because he’d offered to be my husband in order for me to receive an inheritance, it gave me some right to this part of him? The part he hid from everyone. “Has Dr. Clarke seen them?”
“Yes, and his father has as well.”
“Is there nothing that can be done?” I didn’t even know what the marks were. I’d seen men pockmarked from disease, but those marks looked nothing like David’s.
“Everything that can be done has been done. It was an affliction I suffered as a child, and I’m not a child anymore.”
He was definitely not. I made certain to keep my eyes on his face. “Something like smallpox?” I asked.
“No. It wasn’t a solitary disease. It was a recurring ailment, but I’ve outgrown it.” He turned and strode away from my bed. “I’ll go fetch Mrs. Ward and Maren. I think it might be better if they care for you for the next little while. I’m glad to see you feeling better.”
His hand went to the door.
“David?”
He stopped, clenched his fist around the doorknob, and slowly turned around. All the fire from earlier was gone from his eyes. Instead, I saw only sadness, a deep sorrow he’d hidden from me all along.
“How long has it been since ... ?” I didn’t even know how to finish asking that question. Was it an episode he would have? A sickness with blisters or boils? Were those marks part of the reason he’d been so unkempt the summer I’d been here? Had he been ill?
My thoughts went back to our time together then. Usually, he was perfectly capable of keeping up with me. He’d climbed trees even better than I had. But he’d also had days I’d had to slow for him and days he would lift his arms to climb a tree, then wince and change his mind.
Hehadbeen sick. He’d been terribly sick all along. And for some of those days, at least, I’d managed to help him forget that. We’d found others in need and delivered food to them. We’d climbed trees and left the world below us. I’d laughed with him like I wouldn’t laugh again for years—not until I’d met him again and we’d sung so badly together and flirted in ways I had hoped he wouldn’t understand were real. He’d been the very last part of my childhood, a memory of what I’d had before I’d been forced to grow up too quickly. And apparently, I’d been the brightest part of his childhood. He’d been trying to tell me all along, and I’d never managed to listen.
David’s spine stiffened as if he were trying to convince himself of his own strength. His strength was nothing I needed convincing of. “It’s been years.”
“Good.”
“Please don’t worry about me. They don’t bother me anymore.”
My eyes met his. We both knew he was lying.
If I’d brought light to him in the past, I’d happily do that for him again. And I could see that more than anything, he wanted this conversation to be over. I smiled and sighed, hoping he wouldn’t think those marks would haunt me. “That’s good, then.”
He nodded as if we were agreeing about the prospect of bad weather. His hand went back to the doorknob.
“David?”
He took a deep breath, steeling himself for more questions. “Yes?”
“Thank you,” I said softly.
